“And now you have it,” Gabe acknowledged lightly. “Is it as much fun as you thought it would be?”
Fun? She hadn’t ever expected it to be “fun”. She had wanted independence, freedom, hadn’t looked for anything else. And her business had certainly given her those things; she answered to no one!
“There’s more to life than success, Jane,” Gabe added at her lack of reply.
“Such as?” she challenged scornfully; he wasn’t exactly unsuccessful himself, so how could he be a judge of that?
He shrugged. “Love,” he suggested huskily.
Jane gave a derisive laugh. “I don’t see how you can possibly say that when you obviously had a love/hate relationship with your own wife!”
His mouth tightened. “Jennifer did not make me happy,” he conceded. “But I thought I’d found the perfect woman,” he rasped, his thoughts all inwards now. “And then she just evaporated, disappeared before my eyes.” He looked across at Jane with pained eyes. “I haven’t been able to look at another woman since without seeing her image imprinted there. At least,” he added gruffly, “I hadn’t. Until six days ago.”
“What happened—? Oh, no, Gabe,” she dismissed scathingly as she realised he was talking of his initial meeting with her. “Does this chat-up line usually work?” she added disgustedly.
“It isn’t a chat-up line,” he told her steadily. “You know that. And so do I,” he added evenly, keeping his gaze fixed on hers.
It was that steady gaze that made her realise he meant every word he was saying!
“You’re being ridiculous, Gabe,” she bit out agitatedly. “You can’t be attracted to me!”
He tilted his head thoughtfully to one side. “That’s a very interesting way of putting it.”
Again she realised her mistake too late; it was an “interesting way of putting it”. And she knew exactly why she had said it that way. But the last thing she wanted was for Gabe to know that reason!
“I’m just not your type,” she said impatiently.
Those dark brows rose again. “Do I have a type?” he drawled in amusement.
Jane sighed. “Of course you do,” she snapped irritably. “You’ve always been attracted to tall, elegant blondes. You married a tall, elegant blonde! Whereas I—” She broke off, having realised by the widening of his eyes that she had once again said too much.
She just couldn’t seem to help it where this man was concerned. She simply wasn’t any good at playing the sophisticated games that people like Gabe—and Paul—liked to play. It was one of the reasons Paul had become so bored with her; he had been sure that the doting daughter and equally doting fiancée were an act, had been furious after their marriage to learn that that was exactly what she was. Her shyness annoyed him, her total love irritated him, and as for the doting daughter—!
It had become a marriage made in hell, her shyness turning to coldness as a way of protecting herself from Paul’s taunts; her total love had deteriorated to pity that he obviously wasn’t able to feel such emotion himself. And the “doting daughter” had kept all her pain and misery to herself, in an effort to spare her parents the heartache of knowing she had made a terrible mistake in marrying Paul!
“You’re a short brunette,” Gabe conceded dryly. “Which makes a mockery of the tall blonde.” His eyes narrowed. “How did you know my wife was blonde? I’m sure I didn’t mention it…”
There was an underlying edge of steel to his tone that hadn’t been there before, and Jane realised that a lot depended on her next answer. “Celia Barnaby insisted on talking to me about you the other evening,” she told him truthfully, relieved to see some of the tension ease out of his stiffly held shoulders. And it was the truth—except Celia hadn’t told her his wife was a blonde either! But if what he had told her about Celia was true, then he was never likely to find that out from the other woman, was he? “I believe the implication was that, being tall and blonde herself, she was worthy of your interest,” Jane added mockingly.
He shrugged, relaxed once more. “I seem to have lost my appetite for tall blondes,” he returned dryly.
Then it was a pity her hair wasn’t its natural honey-blonde; it would have nullified her attraction on one count, at least! But if her hair had still been blonde Gabe would probably have instantly recognised her, anyway. And that would never do!
“Celia assures me that blondes have more fun,” Jane derided, having no intention of explaining to him the circumstances under which the other woman had made that remark! She was still unnerved herself at the other woman’s realisation of her real hair colour…
“If you like that sort of fun.” Gabe’s mouth twisted scornfully. “I don’t. How old are you, Jane?” He abruptly changed the subject.
She blinked, seeming to have averted one catastrophe—but unsure whether or not she was heading for another one! “Twenty-eight,” she supplied with a frown.
He nodded, as if it was about what he had already guessed. “And I’m thirty-nine.”
She shook her head. “I don’t see—”
“Because I hadn’t finished,” he told her with mild rebuke. “I’m thirty-nine years old, was married, and now I’m not. I’m a wealthy man, can do what I like, when I like—pretty much as you can, I imagine,” he acknowledged ruefully. “The difference being,” he continued as she would have spoken, “that for me it isn’t enough. When my wife died three years ago— Strange that your life seems to have changed around that time too…?” he added thoughtfully.
Jane held her breath as she waited for him to continue. If he did. Oh, please, God, don’t let him pursue that subject!
He shrugged, as if it was something he would go back to another time; right now he was talking about something completely different. “When Jennifer died all my illusions died along with her,” he continued harshly. “And that illusion of perfection disappeared too.”
Not surprising, in the circumstances! He must have really loved Jennifer to have ever thought she was perfect! But then, hadn’t Jane made the same mistake about Paul…? Love, it appeared, made fools of them all!
“Or so it seemed,” Gabe added softly, looking pointedly at Jane.
He didn’t seem the type of man who fell victim to infatuations, and yet the way he was looking at her…! Maybe she had formed completely the wrong impression of this man, because at this moment that was exactly how he was behaving!
“I can assure you, I’m far from perfect,” she told him firmly, standing up to clear away her plate, the food only half eaten, but the evening over as far as she was concerned. “I wish you luck in your search for this perfection, Gabe,” she added dismissively. “But count me out. I don’t meet the criteria, and, even more important, I happen to like my life exactly the way it is.” Her eyes flashed a warning.
Because she did like her life the way it was. She was her own boss, both privately and professionally, could pick and choose now what she would and wouldn’t do. And she had deliberately planned for it to be that way. And it was how she intended it to stay.
Gabe clearly saw that warning in her eyes, standing up too. “Don’t you ever long for anything different, Jane? Marriage? Children?” he persisted.
Jane felt the pain only briefly, bringing a shutter down over her emotions, her gaze impenetrable as she looked at him coldly. “Like you, Gabe, I’ve tried the former,” she bit out between stiff lips. “And I also know it isn’t necessary for the latter,” she added flatly. “And no, I don’t long for either of those things.” Not again. Not ever again. She belonged to herself, would never be owned by anyone ever again.
Gabe looked at her through narrowed lids. “You’ve been married?”
Once again this man had provoked her into saying too much. Far, far too much. She seemed to head him off from one direction, only to find he was going in another one that was just as intrusive.
“Hasn’t everyone?” she dismissed with deliberate carelessness. “With the divorce rate as high as it is, surely it’s inevita
ble!” she added scathingly.
That aqua-blue gaze remained narrowed on her thoughtfully. And Jane hadn’t missed that glance he had briefly given her left hand. But he would find no tell-tale signs of a ring having been worn there, no indentation, no paler skin from a summer tan; her ring had been consigned to a river long ago. Along with all the painful memories that went with it.
“You’re divorced?” Gabe probed softly now.
Oh, no, he wasn’t going to get any more information out of her that way!
“My father told me you should try everything once,” she answered mockingly. “And if you don’t like it the first time then don’t repeat the experience!” Once again she didn’t actually answer his question, and she knew by the rueful expression on his face that he was well aware of the fact, that it was yet another subject he would store away for the moment to be returned to on another occasion.
And he would be wasting his time, now and in the future; she had no intention of answering any of his questions about her marriage!
“Do your parents live in London?”
She drew in a gasping breath—this man just didn’t give up, did he!
“No,” she answered unhelpfully. “Do yours live in America?”
His mouth twisted in acknowledgement of her having turned the question back to him. “They do,” he drawled dryly, the two of them having cleared the table now. “In Washington DC. My dad was in politics, but he’s retired now.”
If he thought that by appearing open about his own family she would return the compliment, then he was mistaken! “Do politicians ever retire?”
“Not really.” Gabe smiled at the question. “But it’s what he likes to tell people. He and Mom have been married for forty years.”
And her own parents had been married for thirty. In fact, tomorrow was their wedding anniversary, and she intended going to see them for a few hours on Saturday. Sadly a few hours was all she could bear nowadays.
It used to be so different, her parents doting on their only child. But what Paul had done three years ago had affected them all, and now her father was a mere shadow of his former self, and her mother desperately tried to keep up a pretence for Jane’s benefit that everything was normal whenever she went to see them. But Jane wasn’t fooled for a minute, and her visits, few and far between nowadays, were as much of a strain for her as they were for her parents.
“Someone should give them a medal,” she told Gabe cynically. “A lasting marriage seems to be a dying art!”
“That isn’t true,” he defended. “There are lots of happily married couples. Look at Felicity and Richard,” he pointed out triumphantly.
“You didn’t,” Jane reminded him dryly. “You accused me of having an affair with Richard!”
Gabe grimaced. “A natural mistake, in the circumstances.”
Jane gave him a look of exasperation. “And just what ‘circumstances’ would they be?”
He shrugged uncomfortably. “You were very strong in your defence of him.”
Because of her past knowledge of Gabe, not because she was actually close to the other couple. Although she did like Felicity and Richard, admired their happy marriage and beautiful daughters. And it had been the destruction she knew this man could wreak that had made her defend them so fiercely. It seemed that defence had succeeded in arousing Gabe’s suspicions, but in completely the wrong direction—thank goodness!
“It’s an English trait,” she answered dryly. “We always root for the underdog,” she explained at Gabe’s puzzled expression.
His mouth twisted ruefully. “I doubt Felicity and Richard think of themselves as such!”
“I visited Felicity today.” Jane looked at him pointedly.
He gave that mocking inclination of his head. “And she told you about my business deal with Richard,” he guessed wryly. “And now part of you—a very big part if I know anything about you at all—is wondering what I’m up to now! Will it make any difference if I tell you nothing; it’s a straightforward business arrangement, with no hidden agenda?”
Jane still looked at him sceptically. “And what’s in it for you?” Because from what Felicity had told her about that deal, he had gained absolutely nothing. And that didn’t sound like the Gabriel Vaughan she knew at all!
“It means I can sleep nights,” he muttered harshly.
Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you have a conscience, Gabe?” she said disbelievingly.
“Is that so hard to believe?” he rasped.
She shrugged; three years ago she wouldn’t have believed he had a conscience to bother—and she didn’t want to start changing her opinion of him now! “I find it so, yes,” she answered truthfully.
“Oh, it’s there, I can assure you,” he bit out. “And I’ve just realised you very neatly changed the subject again a few minutes ago,” he added mockingly.
Jane looked at him with innocently wide sherry-brown eyes. She wasn’t actually sure which subject he meant; there seemed to be so many of them that she didn’t wish to discuss with this man!
Gabe threw back his head and laughed. “Does that innocent-little-girl expression usually work?” he finally sobered enough to ask.
“Usually—yes.” Jane grinned back at him in spite of herself.
“God, Jane, you’re beautiful when you smile!” he said with husky admiration. “You’re also trying to change the subject—again!” he added chidingly.
She arched her brows. “Am I?”
“Oh, yes,” he acknowledged without rancour. “Tell me, do you play bridge?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” she admitted dryly.
“And chess?”
She smiled again, knowing exactly what he was getting at. “Yes,” she confirmed wryly.
“Unfortunately—for you—so do I!” Gabe drawled teasingly. “Tell me, Jane, do you believe in love at first sight?” he added softly, his gaze suddenly intense once again.
“No,” she answered without hesitation. “Not at second, third, or fourth, either!” she bit out tautly.
He frowned at her answer. “Was your marriage that awful?”
“In its own way. Wasn’t yours?” she challenged, once again avoiding talking about her marriage to Paul. “Awful” didn’t even begin to describe it! “Even loving your wife as you did?”
He sighed heavily. “Let me tell you about my feelings for Jennifer—”
“Gabe, I don’t want to know about your marriage or your wife,” Jane cut in agitatedly; she already knew all she needed to know about both those things. “If you’re still having trouble coming to terms with what happened, and need someone to talk to about it, then I suggest you try a marriage guidance counsellor—or a priest!” she added insultingly, eyes gleaming darkly.
He drew in a sharp breath. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
“I have no idea,” she sighed wearily. “But that’s my whole point really, Gabe; I have no idea because I don’t want to know. How many times do I have to keep saying that?” she added with deliberate scorn.
“I’m obviously a slow learner,” he murmured thoughtfully, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair. “I thought you were different, Jane.” He frowned. “I still think that,” he added firmly. “I also don’t think you’re as indifferent to me as you would like to think you are.” He shrugged into his jacket. “Thanks for the meal, Jane. And the conversation. Believe it or not, I enjoyed both!”
She did find that hard to believe. Oh, parts of the evening—very small parts!—had been pleasant, but his kisses had had a devastating effect on the emotional barriers she had succeeded in putting up over the last three years, and the conversation about his wife was something she hadn’t enjoyed at all, and she couldn’t believe Gabe had enjoyed talking about Jennifer either. And Jane certainly regretted having revealed so much about her own life…
“Thank you for the flowers,” she said stiffly. “But please don’t try and use Evie again to get in here,” she added hardly, eyes glitt
ering warningly. “She may be a romantic—but I’m not!”
“And you intend putting her straight about your American fiancée,” Gabe guessed easily. “Next time I come here, Jane, it will be at your invitation,” he promised.
That day would never come, she inwardly assured herself as she walked him to the door.
Gabe turned in the doorway, gently touching one of her pale cheeks. “I really mean you no harm, Jane,” he told her huskily.
He might not mean to harm her, but he had already shaken the foundations of her new life. “I wouldn’t allow you to,” she assured him firmly.
He gave a wry smile. “Look after yourself, Jane Smith,” he told her softly. “Because I very much doubt you would allow anyone else to do so!” came his parting shot.
Jane closed and locked the door before he had even walked down the carpeted hallway to the lift, leaning back against it with a sigh, closing her eyes wearily.
But the action had little effect in closing out the image of Gabe in her apartment, of Gabe kissing her until she responded…
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE house looked the same as it always had as Jane drove down the long driveway. There was snow still on the grass verge and trees, but it had mainly melted on the gravel driveway—evidence that one or both of her parents had driven down it in the last few days.
Jane had always loved this house set in the Berkshire countryside. She’d grown up here from child to teenager in the surrounding grounds and woods. This was her parents’ home, where she had only ever known love and the closeness of a happy family.
Although she felt none of that warmth now as she parked her van outside the house. It was no longer the grand house it had once been; the paintwork outside was in need of redoing, and inside only the main parts of the house were kept in liveable order now. The once gracious wings on either side of this were closed up now, being too expensive to heat, let alone keep clean and tidy. There was only Mrs Weaver in the kitchen now to cook and tend the house, a young girl from the village coming in at weekends to help with the heavy housework. Once the house had had a full-time staff of five, and three gardeners to tend the grounds. But not any more. Not for three years now…
The Yuletide Engagement & A Yuletide Seduction Page 22